


Music Box

by nixcomix



Series: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words [4]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Dancing, F/M, Falling In Love, Music, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:00:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nixcomix/pseuds/nixcomix
Summary: She’s never heard a music box before, so she doesn’t know how to explain it – only that there’s a kind of metallic sound coming from the delicate item in front of her. Her eyes are wide on it, enthralled as it flickers - projecting.Shimmering in front of her… dancing in front of her… is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: A Picture is Worth a Thousand Words [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2099736
Comments: 26
Kudos: 59





	Music Box

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anopendoor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anopendoor/gifts).



> This was inspired by a beautiful drawing that I fell in love with Immediately. An amazingly talented friend online, anopendoor, prompted me with it, and I couldn't wait a single moment; I had to put 'pen to paper' right away. 
> 
> I'm still waiting for permission to use the picture - but you can find it here. Follow this artist, their work is gorgeous. https://twitter.com/jozpic/status/1327209337643618304?s=20 @jozpic
> 
> You can find anopendoor's work here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anopendoor @anopendoor3  
> She not only writes, but does beautiful moodboards, like the one below. If you're reading my story, "Monarch", you'll see her talent in the upcoming chapter 15, as well.  
> ~~~~~~~~~~~

Moodboard by [anopendoor ](https://twitter.com/anopendoor3)

\--------------------------

This is an Imperial Cruiser, stripped bare in every accessible area - but she’s still small, so she can work her way into the nooks and crannies the older scavengers can’t get into.

That means she can skootch under wreckage that blocks whole sections. She can pinch her body through soooo tightly. Cram it under the smallest of gaps. She’s glad she’s so small; but worries about getting big.

Especially because, this time, she got stuck.

She’d panicked – cried her eyes out, actually. But, once she settled, she tried again. That’s what Rey’s life is. It’s a life of trying to eke out what you can, when you can. Getting hurt, failing, but never, _ever_ stopping. Never giving up. Never dying.

Even when her waterless body wants to. 

As the gash on her back aches, she wonders if she can find a different way out again. Even so, she’s already resigned herself to another gouge in order to return into the hot Jakku air. Her body is slowly betraying her as she ages, but her _grit_ will always be insurmountable.

Or maybe she’s just stubborn.

Yes, definitely a streak of that, too.

The hallways wind, just like any other ship, and she flips open latches to take out the most expensive pieces, first. If any other kids get wind of this place, they’ll grab what she hasn’t, so she’s got to focus on the most lucrative.

She’ll bury more than half of it, like always. That way – they can only steal so much of her take, and only so much of the food she earns with it.

She’s saving, just in case. Because she’s needed ‘in case’ solutions all too often in her short life.

Down a few corridors, she knows she’s getting into living quarters, and it thrills her. This is where you can find a wealth of treasures. Cloth. Pictures. Stones in colors she can’t name, all shining in a way that metal never could. Lovely settings - circles and pins. It’s magical. And the room she’s entered is no exception.

In fact – this room is a jackpot.

For a moment, perhaps a moment too long, she’s simply stunned. There’s _so much_ in this room – too much to see all at once. She’s overwhelmed at first – until her pragmatic eyes finally settle and start their inventory.

Loopy-stitched cloth… _Lace,_ she reminds herself. That’s worth a good amount of portions – but it’s bulky. Hard to carry. She’ll leave it for this go-around.

A closet; she’ll raid that in just a minute.

A shiny surface. _Mirror,_ but she looks away from that quickly. 

After catching sight of herself, she removes her goggles and face wraps; understanding how inhuman she looks in her gear. She could be another race. Another face.

Perhaps if she _was,_ her parents would have come back already.

She sighs at the pile in her hands and squeezes it gently before hooking it onto her belt. Ugly or not – that gear is _life._ Her life. And, if she were dead before her parents had a chance to come back for her, what would all of the struggle have been for?

Tucking that familiar wound back into her heart, she looks around again. There is a bed – but she knows by now that it will be moldy and make her sick if she lays on it. Learned that lesson the hard way. More than once.

… But now, her eyes settle on a desk. More specifically, what’s on it.

A flower.

A _flower._

It’s dried, and most of its petals have fallen into fragile curls on the cloth underneath. She walks up slowly, and not without a bit of reverence. Flowers are like rain; rare and so very precious.

Her fingers caress just one of the colored drops on the tabletop, crackling it into dust.

She pulls her hand back slightly; mournfully. Knowing that these petals lasted more than a generation in peace, until _she’d_ entered the room. No different then all the tech she nabs, she supposes, but these are so beautiful that it’s somehow sadder.

Her eyes assess the table, falling on a special box. Well, maybe ‘box’ isn’t right. It’s like a circle that has depth, and it has a key that winds on one side. This also looks fragile, but handleable. With the utmost care, she reaches over and touches the key, twirling it and listening to the coils creak inside. Clicking. Cranking.

And then – it sings.

She’s never heard a music box before, so she doesn’t know how to explain it – only that there’s a kind of metallic sound coming from the delicate item in front of her. Her eyes are wide on it, enthralled as it flickers - projecting.

Shimmering in front of her… _dancing_ in front of her… is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.

A man all dressed in black holds a woman all dressed in white. They embrace in a way she’s never seen, wrapped around each another one moment, then held apart the next… but their hands part.

Neither do their eyes.

In her world – people stare because they want what you have, or because they want to threaten you enough that you _don’t take_ from them.

But this? is different.

This look is soft. Like there’s nothing else in the world but the person in their arms. It’s not mean – it’s the opposite; she knows that, somehow. Instinctively. The look in their eyes – it’s not pity… but, something.

Suddenly, she wants nothing more than to have someone look at her that way.

Human boys are rare – and, when she sees them, she has to practice her staff moves. That, or lose her scavenge.

But this man doesn’t look like he wants to steal anything from the woman. He looks like he wants to give to her instead. Give what?

“Love,” she whispers out loud.

The dancing woman returns his heated stare as she twirls around him to this unknown song. No matter how she moves, her hand is always in his – and she _always_ returns to his chest, as if their hearts can’t bear to be apart.

Rey leans in close, fingers resting on the edge of the table in rapture. Her imagination gets the better of her and, in her mind, _she_ becomes the one in white. _She_ is the one looking into the dark man’s eyes.

Something in her heart clicks into place in that moment, and she feels like she’ll meet this man, one day. That he’ll offer her his hand and sweep her off her feet. He’ll know about her parents, and reunite her family. And he will love her more intensely than anyone else ever has. He’ll know her – heart and soul.

Maybe he’ll feed her.

 _Help_ her.

And never, ever leave.

Then, something inside the little machine snaps. The holo dies… almost as if it were never there in the first place. As if that, too, had been her imagination.

With a quick jab of her hand, she snatches the box, lifting it to crank the key in a twirl once more… but the mechanism inside doesn’t catch. Turning it does nothing.

Another dream to tuck into her heart, then.

She places it gently into her pack, knowing she won’t sell it. Even if she can’t fix it.

Her tally marks can maybe mean two things. Counting the days since her parents left her… and counting the days that lead up to when she’ll meet the man in black. The man meant just for her.

When she sees him, she knows her whole life will change.

And with that thought firm in her mind, she turns around…

… and scavenges.


End file.
